So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.

Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods.

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorned, By strangers honored, and b…

Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sk…